by Mari Carr
An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication
www.ellorascave.com
Scoring
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Scoring Copyright © 2009 Mari Carr
Edited by Kelli Collins
Cover art by Syneca
Electronic book Publication August 2009
The terms Romantica® and Quickies® are registered trademarks of Ellora’s Cave Publishing.
With the exception of quotes used in reviews, this book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310-3502.
Warning: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. (http://www.fbi.gov/ipr/). Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted material. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.
Scoring
Mari Carr
Dedication
This story is dedicated to the gals of International Heat. You ladies make me laugh and keep me plugging along with my writing!
Trademarks Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Pro Silver Star Ltd.
Super Bowl: NFL Enterprises LLC
Chapter One
“So you and me, this weekend, right Mel?” Tony asked as he leaned across the table and stole a potato chip from her tray.
Melanie Ward sat up straight and turned to her friend Carly as if in shock. “Oh my God, hell froze over and you didn’t tell me?”
The friends at the table laughed, the lighthearted conversation all too familiar in the faculty lunchroom at Lowell High School. Tony, Mel, Jon and Kelly—from the English department—and school secretary Carly gathered every day for twenty-three minutes of teen-free time to eat lukewarm food off plastic trays, blow off steam about the students’ behavior and enjoy a few minutes of adult company.
“Come on, Mel, give the poor guy a break. His football team just got knocked out of the state quarterfinals. He needs some compassion,” Jon said, picking up his sandwich.
“Thanks for mentioning that sore subject…again.” Tony crushed his milk carton and tossed it across the room, hitting the trash can dead center. “Two points!”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Maybe you’d have a better chance of winning state if you coached basketball instead of football.”
“Ouch,” Kelly laughed. “Way to go for the jugular, Mel.”
Tony leaned back in his seat with a cocky grin. “You know what they say, Miss Ward. You hurt the ones you love.”
Melanie shook her head. “In your dreams.”
His grin grew wider and Melanie immediately realized her mistake. “Ooh baby, the ways we hurt each other in my dreams would straighten those pretty curls of yours.”
“Just because we teach in a high school, Tony, doesn’t mean you have to act like a horny teenager 24/7.”
“Well, I wouldn’t be horny all the time if you’d just go out with me,” he teased.
“Go out with you or sleep with you?”
“There’s a difference?”
“God, you’re annoying.”
Tony leaned forward and tried to grab the chocolate chip cookie the lunch lady had given her for dessert. “Give me one good reason why you won’t date me.”
“We’re incompatible,” she answered, smacking his hand away.
“How are we incompatible? We work together.”
“Simply working in the same building doesn’t mean we would be a good match. You coach football and teach Phys Ed. I’m the choral director. It would sort of be like trying to merge the Super Bowl and The Sound of Music.”
Tony laughed. “Christ, there’s a lame musical. Bunch of kids dressed in curtains singing their way through Austria to escape Hitler.”
Melanie narrowed her eyes angrily. “Yeah well, that lame musical happens to be my choice for the spring production.”
“Oh,” Tony replied sheepishly. “That could be cool, I guess. I mean, that Maria was kinda hot.”
“Way to stick your foot in your mouth, Tony,” Kelly said. “But I don’t see how being different means you’re incompatible. Mac and I aren’t exactly carbon copies of each other and we get along fine.”
The way Kelly emphasized “fine” produced more chuckles. She and her undercover cop were newlyweds and so insanely in love, it hurt Mel to look at them.
“Maybe not, but at least you two have some common interests,” Melanie replied.
“I’m sure we have something in common besides where we work,” Tony said.
“Oh yeah? What’s your favorite thing to do on the weekends?”
“Watch sports on TV and have sex.”
Melanie fought back a blush and a grin at his quick response. “I like to read and listen to music.”
“You don’t like sex?” he teased.
“I’m not discussing my sex life.” Or lack thereof.
“You’d like sex with me,” he said, grabbing her hand and toying with one of the rings on her finger.
She tried to ignore the heat generated from his touch that traveled up her arm, spreading out to various long-neglected parts of her body. She pulled her hand away from his and attempted to get the conversation back on track. “Do you have a favorite book? Have you ever read a book?”
“Of course I read. I love Friday Night Lights. Cry at the end of it every time,” he joked.
“Who’s your favorite musician?”
“Rihanna,” he answered easily.
“Why?”
“Because she’s fucking sexy.”
Melanie looked at Kelly and Carly and gestured grandly toward Tony, as if she’d made her point. Both women were laughing and she had to admit she found the affable football coach amusing too.
Lunchtime was her favorite part of the workday, mainly because it allowed her to relax with her friends and, if she were being perfectly honest, she was flattered by Tony’s continual flirting. He certainly wasn’t hard on the eyes, with his light brown hair and dark blue gaze, and his body proved that he practiced what he preached to the athletes on his team as his muscular arm reached over to tug on her hair mischievously.
“Not as sexy as you, of course,” he added, and she fought back the flutter in her heart that accompanied each one of his playful touches. He seemed to find more and more reasons to touch her lately and every brush of his fingers sent her body into overdrive.
“You’re incorrigible,” she said.
“And you’re beautiful,” he replied, his tone more serious than she’d ever heard it. “Go out with me, Mel. Just one date. Let me prove to you we’re compatible.”
She sucked in a breath, waiting for him to crack a joke, but his eyes held her gaze and she could sense something in them that looked almost like a plea. She’d been turning down his invitations for over a year because she didn’t think his interest was sincere. She’d honestly thought it had just been friendly teasing, playful banter. Now she wondered if she’d misread his desire.
Desire. Christ, if there was one thing she
did know about Tony Peterson, it was that she desired him beyond reason. She felt a light blush cover her face and she hoped no one else noticed.
“Go for it,” she heard Kelly murmur next to her.
“It’s just one date,” Carly added. “Call his bluff.”
Melanie glanced at her friends and wondered for a moment if they weren’t actually on Tony’s side. Carly’s words had the ring of a dare, something her friends knew she could never resist.
“Fine,” she said before she could think better of it. “One date and then you’ll see I’m right. Touchdowns and tempos don’t mix.” But dear God, she sure as hell wished they did.
Tony smiled widely and for a moment she was struck by how amazingly handsome he was. He shrugged lightly, as if unconcerned by her joke. “I may not know much about music, but sweetheart, I know all about scoring and I should warn you, I’m in this game to win.”
* * * * *
Tony stirred the spaghetti sauce once more before replacing the pan lid and turning the heat down to simmer. He glanced around the kitchen, pleased with the way the place looked. Carly and Kelly had come over earlier this afternoon to help him create a romantic atmosphere in the apartment, scattering candles around and setting the table for two with a tablecloth, flowers and fancy wineglasses.
He’d enlisted Melanie’s friends several weeks ago when he’d realized that his feelings for the woman had changed from mere friendship to genuine interest. He wasn’t sure when the tide had turned, but one Friday night, after a depressing overtime loss to a rival school, he’d left the field to find Melanie waiting. It wasn’t unusual to see her at the games. Despite her protestations about finding football barbaric and boring, she never missed a game and had even organized a pep squad to come out and support his players.
He couldn’t remember what she’d said to him; some smartass joke that had made him laugh. And he’d realized that she had become special to him. He’d been feeling low and lonely and miserable, but just seeing her face and hearing her soft voice had lightened all those heavy emotions. He started paying attention after that and he was amazed to discover that her presence directly correlated to his mood. Whenever she was around, he was happy. Whenever she wasn’t, he missed her, thought about her, wondered where she was and what she was doing.
At thirty-two, he’d been around the block more than a few times, but there was something about the prim and proper music teacher that had stopped him in his tracks. There was something about her that spoke to him of family and forever and—well, he couldn’t deny it—hot, steamy sex that would melt the paint off the walls.
The doorbell rang and he grinned. He hadn’t lied about playing to win when she’d accepted this date. He’d made his game plan carefully, studying all her past evasive moves and preparing a strong offense to overpower her defense that insisted they weren’t perfect for each other. He crossed to the stereo and turned on the Norah Jones CD Kelly had dug out of his collection, declaring it the ultimate mood music.
Between the candlelight, the smell of Italian food wafting through the air and the soft melody, he felt optimistic, hopeful. He felt like a quarterback walking onto the field just before the Super Bowl. Tonight, all his dreams would be realized. God help him if he fumbled because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, no game had ever meant more to him.
* * * * *
When Tony opened the door, the romantic ambiance that greeted Melanie overwhelmed her. His house, though not really disgusting, was generally messy in an “I’m a busy bachelor” way. Tonight, the empty pizza boxes and beer bottles, the pile of dirty socks in the corner and the blaring noise of the television were gone.
“Am I in the right house?” she asked as she stepped in. She’d had reservations about accepting his invitation to cook for her at his place since he’d told her his plans for their first—and probably only—date. Despite the fact she’d been at his house lots of times, she’d never been in it alone with him. He threw lots of impromptu Friday happy hours for their friends on the faculty and she’d helped him host a picnic for his football players over the summer. Tonight she was overwhelmed with the fear that—despite her resolve to prove how wrong they were for each other—she wouldn’t be able to resist her body’s insistence that they could be oh-so-very right together.
He took her coat and hung it up in the closet in the foyer.
“Norah Jones?” she asked when she caught the melody of one of her favorite songs.
“You gave me this CD for my birthday,” he answered.
“I didn’t think you ever listened to it.”
“Well, you were wrong,” he said, grasping her hand and pulling her into the living room. “I think you’re going to find out you were wrong about a lot of things tonight.”
He pulled her toward him, wrapping one arm around her waist while keeping hold of her hand, slowly swirling her in time to the music in a slow dance, and she was struck by the thought that they’d never danced together. Somehow this slow movement, this natural embrace, felt too familiar to be brand new. Clearly, she’d dreamed of his arms surrounding her far too often during the cold, lonely nights. She matched his sexy sway with one of her own and neither of them spoke while they moved in time to the sultry tune.
Melanie put her head against his chest, listening as the steady beat of his heart accompanied the music. He tightened his grip and she struggled not to stumble as his hard cock brushed against her stomach. He obviously felt no embarrassment about his arousal. He wanted her to know.
After all the months of flirtatious banter, the truth came crashing down around her. He hadn’t been lying. He did want her.
The realization sent a surge of hot juices to her aching pussy. She’d denied herself the joy of believing his claims of wanting her, unwilling to let herself hope that their friendship could ever be anything more.
Tony’s hand drifted slowly up her back and she was surprised when he wrapped his fingers in her auburn curls, lightly tugging her head back until her face was inches from his.
She parted her lips to speak but no sound emerged as he leaned down and kissed her. She expected his kiss to reflect his personality—strong, overpowering, intense. Instead she was assaulted by the utter tenderness of his lips on hers. He wasn’t taking, he was giving.
When he pulled away, she had to fight not to grab his head and demand more. She slowly opened her eyes. Rather than the smug, gloating look she anticipated, he was smiling at her so sweetly, so kindly, she felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.
“Tony,” she whispered.
He placed his finger on her lips to halt her words. “Too many more of those sweet kisses of yours and my dinner won’t be worth eating by the time I’m finished with you.”
“I don’t care about dinner,” she blurted out, secretly pleased by the look of lust that suddenly clouded his eyes.
“Dammit, Mel. Don’t joke around. I’m a man teetering on the edge here.”
She ran her hand along his chest seductively, not stopping until her fingers rested on the waistband of his jeans.
“Jump,” she dared.
Chapter Two
Melanie had been a fool to think she could resist this, resist him. She’d wanted Tony Peterson since the first day she’d laid eyes on him. Regardless of her opinion concerning their compatibility outside the bedroom, she had no doubts inside it they would scorch the sheets.
His eyes narrowed at her sexy taunt. “Bedroom—now,” he demanded. “And you better have those clothes off by the time you get there.”
She fought back a giggle at his “drop and give me fifty” coach’s voice but didn’t resist. She headed for the stairs, aware of the fact his bedroom was at the top despite the fact she’d never seen it. She turned as he followed her. Slowly she climbed the first step, moving backward while unbuttoning the top button on her blouse. She repeated the motion, one button for each step as Tony shadowed her progress a step below her, his eyes never moving from the actions of her hands.
/> “Fuck,” he muttered when she reached the middle of the staircase and her last button. Pulling off her shirt, she flung it over the banister, reveling in the admiration in his gaze.
Reaching behind her, she undid the clasp of her bra before removing it and draping it over his shoulder with a naughty grin.
He growled at the sexy move and she felt a moment of panic at the ravenous look in his eyes. Turning, she started to run up the remaining stairs, overwhelmed by his intense stare and her hungry, starving need for him.
“Oh no, you don’t,” he said, reaching out and gripping her around the waist. “You want to play dirty, we’ll play dirty.” Holding her in place with one arm, he used the other hand to strip off her skirt. “Aw shit, Mel. You’re wearing stockings. Christ, I love stockings.”
She’d donned the silky hose, garter and thong secretly hoping he’d see them. Now that he was standing behind her, his hands firmly rubbing over the bare globes of her rear-end, she was glad she had.
“Are you going to take me on the stairs?” she asked breathlessly when his hands began to stray from the soft flesh of her ass to explore the depths between.
“I should,” he said, his voice so gruff it rumbled through her like an electric shock. She began to tremble in his grip as he pushed her upper back forward until she was bent over the arm holding her, her ass bared and available to his hand and gaze. “You knew what you were doing with that little striptease. You let the bear out of his cage, Miss Ward. Are you prepared to pay for the consequences of that?”
She shivered, loving the dominant way he spoke to her. He was taking charge of her and she wanted, needed more.
“I’m ready for anything you dish out, Coach Peterson,” she replied, her words a taunt, a dare, a plea.
She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it certainly wasn’t the firm slap across her ass. His hand was rough and strong.
